


On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me

by Robin_Hood



Category: Green Creek Series - T.J. Klune
Genre: M/M, RIP, brief mention of torture, im being good because its christmas, richard is there kind, soft, this is mainly soft tho :mm:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-27 07:28:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17157818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Hood/pseuds/Robin_Hood
Summary: Christmas Eve at the Bennetts was always something magical. Not only because of the glimmering lights coming from the Christmas ornaments, a present from Gordo, but from the over powering sense of family, closeness, and remembrance. There was magic in how they all sat together in front of the fire place, wrapped in blankets and sipping whatever was handed to them by Elizabeth. It usually varied between warm cider, and hot cocoa tweaked to the individual’s liking.





	On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true love gave to me

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas Lea!! I love you lots, and wish you a happy new year in which you receive everything you deserve, and aren't too stressed out. Enjoy!

Christmas Eve at the Bennetts was always something magical. Not only because of the glimmering lights coming from the Christmas ornaments, a present from Gordo, but from the over powering sense of family, closeness, and remembrance. There was magic in how they all sat together in front of the fire place, wrapped in blankets and sipping whatever was handed to them by Elizabeth. It usually varied between warm cider, and hot cocoa tweaked to the individual’s liking.

For Ox, that meant a sprinkle of cinnamon, Robbie liked mint in his, Kelly and Carter would never get enough marshmallows, and a candy cane was hooked onto the rim of Joe’s mug.

Sometimes they would tell stories, recounting the joys, pains, and new discoveries of the year. Sometimes they would sit in silence, choosing to feel each other’s presence as the fire flickered and popped in front of them.

These evenings spur memories to resurface after seemingly disappearing forever.

On the Christmas Eve after Elijah’s attack, Joe finds himself opening his eyes to memories that had been locked away for years.

_Merry Christmas, Joseph_

He’s eight years old again, lying on his back on a cold metal sheet while Richard’s voice echoes through the room. Richard touches his arm, and it’s as if all the hours of blades, fire, and bruising blows course through his body, the memory of pain consuming his body and tearing a scream from his throat.

His eyes are closed against the pain, but he can clearly see Richard’s smile through the red haze.

Richard tsks, and Joe can feel him fastening his wrists to the steel plate. Dread is pooling his stomach, and he finds himself wishing wildly for his family to be there, to tear Richard apart, and to pull Joe from the table and into warm, welcoming arms.

 _They’re not coming for you_ , Richard whispers into Joe’s ear, and Joe knows he’s right. Though he has little to no concept of how much time has passed since he was taken from his family, he does know it has been long enough for pink scar tissue to begin to fade, and for him to begin to believe that he was going to die here at Richard’s hands.

_I have a present for you_

Joe is drifting through pain and memories as Richard presses the phone to the side of Joe’s head, willing himself to not plead for Richard to stop, to not plead for the parents he knows are on the other line to come save him, because then he wouldn’t be torn apart when they said no.

He hadn’t ever gotten what he wished for with Richard though. There was no Christmas miracle.

_Joe?_

His mother’s voice sends shudders through his body, and he knows that they would be drinking hot chocolate if he had been with them. He would be sharpening his candy cane to a sharp edge and chasing Kelly and carter around the house while Thomas and Elizabeth watched with sparkles in their eyes.

“Mom,” he whispers, longing steeped in every syllable of the word. He can feel deep cracks running through him as her breath catches and his father takes the phone from her.

_Joseph, I’m so sorry, we’re trying Joe, we’re going to find you, I promise_

There is fire against Joe’s arm, and he bites back a scream, settling for a muffled whimper. His parents fall silent, and he wishes that he could wrench his hands from the steel plate and grab the phone. He wishes he could take the phone and break it over Richard’s face.

“Hang up the phone,” Joe says, hating how weak his voice is. He wants to scream it at Richard, to howl, to terrify him, to _end_ him.

Richard simply laughs, and drives a knife into his burned skin.

Joe screams himself awake.

\---

Joe opens his eyes to a dim room where someone is holding him to their chest. Soft murmured words are slipping into his ears while overwhelming orange wraps around him, smelling of candy cones and pinecones, whispering _safe_. His panic slowly fades as he looks up into Ox’s face, his own heart melting as a small smile slipped onto his face.

“Hey,” Ox whispers, his eyebrows coming together with concern, “bad dream?”

Joe nods, burying his face into Ox’s shirt, inhaling deeply and forcing the bad memories back into their boxes, combating their stubbornness with his love for Ox. Locks click, and he exhales heavily, his arms wrapping tightly around Ox.

The two mates sit like that for a long while, both lost in their own memories of the past and present.

Ox remembers the times when Christmas Eve meant praying that his father wouldn’t come home from work drunk so that he and Maggie could have the perfect, quiet evening, with a dinner made up of whatever Maggie was able to save up for with the money she made waitressing. He also remembers waking up to small parcels on his desk with a heartfelt note, and running into her room to give her a gift of his own.

Joe remembers their first Christmas together, the first Christmas without Thomas, and the first Christmas as the alpha of their pack. He remembers his relief at not being alone in those duties, and how thankful he was to have someone like Ox at his side. He remembers just how green Ox was during that day, his eyes shining like it was the first time he had ever experienced something like what the Bennetts celebrated.

They both remembered just how whole, how happy, they had felt together wrapped up in a blanket with the others.

There was magic beyond what Gordo could do woven through the hours of Christmas.

It was in the stories that were exchanged, good and bad. It was in the warm looks passed between lovers, old and new. It was in the way that Mark leaned his head on Gordo’s shoulder. It was in the way that the timber wolf pressed itself against Carter, and in the way that Carter accepted that. It was in the way Robbie let his hand casually settle onto Kelly’s, and how a flush ran across Kelly’s cheeks.

It was a magic that could not be recreated by anything, and Joe felt a rush of appreciation in how he was able to recognize and experience that.

 


End file.
